


Local Raccoon Befriends Angry Chihuahua

by charlesdk



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Canon Disabled Character, Gay Bucky Barnes, Homophobia, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Minor Peggy Carter/Angie Martinelli, Minor T'Challa/Sam Wilson, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, POV Bucky Barnes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Is The Human Embodiment Of (ง •̀_•́)ง, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 19:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesdk/pseuds/charlesdk
Summary: Rogers was a tiny man. Bucky was sure he easily disappeared in a crowd and became invisible. He was tiny and short and skinny and didn't look like much. But his fists were clenched to his sides in anger, his jaw was jutted out, his boney shoulders were square, and his voice held more power than his body looked like it did.Screaming and yelling and swearing like a damn sailor and asking for a fight, Bucky found him breathtakingly gorgeous. Like a tiny ball of energy and rage and justice that shined brighter than the fucking sun, punching his way through the evil and disgusting trash of the world.Bucky never believed in love at first sight and the way his heart warmed and pounded at the mere sound of Rogers didn't really change his mind. But it did make him stop and stare, desperately reaching out for the feeling he felt when he looked at him because it wasgoodand Bucky hadn't had good in his life in years.OR – in which one armed veteran, suffering insomniac, and grump extraordinaire Bucky Barnes gets turned into a puddle of goo by the tiniest, angriest, most wonderful guy in the entire universe.





	Local Raccoon Befriends Angry Chihuahua

**Author's Note:**

> This was never meant to be more than 10k.
> 
> Warning for homophobic and ableist language, slurs, mild violence, and general assholery. Also swearing. Lots of it. Mostly by Steve.

Bucky met Steve Rogers for the first time on a cold Tuesday afternoon in the middle of September.

Well, met isn't really the right way to describe it. Actually, it's not the right way to describe it at all. Became aware of him is closer to what actually happened.

☆

Bucky pushed the door open and stepped outside into the fresh air. A chill hang in it that should have made him shiver from the previous warmth and should probably have made him zip his jacket closed but it didn't. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting his head tip back just a little.

The stress and nerves and anxiety and fragments of a breakdown seeped out of him as he breathed, his shoulders slowly losing the tension they had been holding for far too long already.

The street wasn't quiet, far from it. The street was alive with people talking among themselves on both sides, cars zipping by and honking, a few dogs barking in the distance, so on and so forth. But the noise was a nice distraction. It wasn't too much and it wasn't too quiet. Not like the place behind him was, the place he'd just stepped out of.

The VA was great. Going there regularly had helped him a lot and he'd come a long way over the past six months of his recovery process after he had returned from the army and gotten out of the hospital, honorable discharge in hand and missing an arm.

But it was too quiet. It was too focused on the horrors every single person in that building had been through and sometimes it just became too much for him to handle.

Sometimes Bucky just needed to call it a day a little earlier than usual, step outside for a breather, and let the noise of the city remind him that he wasn't in an active war zone anymore. Sometimes he just needed the noise to remind him that he wasn't over there and that he didn't need to think about it or work through his issues too.

At least for that little while as he took in breath after breath after breath, he didn't need to think about anything.

There was a door slamming roughly further down the street on the opposite side but Bucky didn't pay attention to it. The street was busy and noisy and people were coming in and out of shops and buildings all day long. A door slamming wasn't unusual or anything that startled him out of his zen moment.

What did make him pay attention and what did startle him out of his focused mind, however, was a voice yelling loudly and angrily.

“Yeah, you better fucking run, you piece of shit!” it yelled over the noise of the cars and the people milling around the street. The voice was deep and male and angry – maybe closer to furious, actually.

Bucky opened his eyes and turned curiously toward the voice.

A man in possibly his late thirties or early forties was fast walking down the street. His brows were low and pinched over his eyes, his jaw was set and clenched, his shoulders were tense, and his hands were curled into tight fists hanging stiffly by his side.

His lips were moving ever so slightly, his words inaudible for Bucky but Bucky figured he was probably grumbling under his breath.

“And don't you ever fucking show your face here again or I will kick your racist ass!” the same angry and furious voice yelled again but it didn't come from the man walking away. It came from behind him and Bucky's eyes followed it.

The guy was short and skinny. He was small (Bucky would even go as far as to call him tiny) which was a weird combination with his deep and loud and angry sounding voice that shouted louder than any of the other noise on the busy street. His hair was blond, golden in the sunlight, and both of his hands were curled into fists, one of them raised and shaking after the other man and the other hanging by his side.

He looked like a breeze could knock him over and yet his voice made him sound dominant.

It was... oddly fascinating.

“Ha, I'd like to see you try, faggot!” the man shouted over his shoulder and Bucky clenched his fist, anger bursting in his chest at the word spat out with hatred and disgust. It wasn't directed at him but hearing it still pissed him off.

Apparently he wasn't the only one.

“What the fuck did you just call me?!” Tiny Guy yelled after him, sounding even more angry than before if that was even possible. Rage clearly displayed on his face, he stalked forward and shouted, “Get the fuck back here, you fucking piece of shit!”

Tiny Guy didn't make it very far before someone stormed out of a cafe nearby. This guy was taller and had a completely unimpressed and done look on his face as he shot forward and wrapped an arm around Tiny Guy's middle, holding him back while Tiny Guy kicked and yelled curses after the asshole.

“Let me the fuck go, Sam!” Tiny Guy yelled as he punched the air in front of him, his feet kicking as he was lifted off the ground. “I'm gonna kick his fucking bigoted, racist ass! Get back here, you fucking coward! Fucking fight me, asshole!”

Sam (?) let out a heavy sigh, his body sagging a little as his lips parted and a breath left him. His expression hadn't changed from the completely and utterly done look, not even as Tiny Guy roared and continued to kick and punch and flail and struggle in his arms.

He just kept dragging him back toward the cafe, shaking his head with what could only be exasperation and disapproval. It looked like this was a common occurrence.

“I'm gonna beat some sense of decent fucking humanity into you!” Tiny Guy yelled while Sam opened the door to the cafe. “I will get my fucking gay hands all over your stupid fucking face–“

“Oh my God, please shut up,” Sam moaned and dragged him inside, but Tiny Guy just kept going.

“– and I will make you regret ever saying those dumb fucking things! You hear me?! I will fucking fight you, motherfu–!”

The door closed, a beat of stunned silence passed, and then the street went on as normal. Like nothing had happened.

Bucky blinked. He blinked again and again, a handful of times before he looked around, his brows furrowed and his mouth slightly agape.

No one was looking his way. Everyone had instantly gone on with their own business like no tiny, angry guy had just screamed his heart out at some dickhead bigot.

“Alright then,” Bucky muttered quietly to himself, stuffing his hand in his pocket and turning to walk down the street.

If no one was going to address it in any way, then neither was he.

However, when he found himself unable to sleep (again) later that night and ended up texting with his sister who was several hours behind him, he couldn't help but mention it.

Becca laughed and told him she was rooting for the little guy about halfway through his retelling of the event, and Bucky had to admit he had been rooting for him too.

☆

Bucky forgot about that incident over the next couple of weeks. He was too busy working on getting better (update: still not going so great) and finding new ways to occupy himself when he couldn't sleep (update: Brooklyn 99 was pretty great and Becca had threatened to block his number several times if he kept sending her memes at ass o'clock) to really be thinking about the tiny, angry dude that had made his month the tiniest bit more eventful than usual.

He had forgotten all about it until it happened again.

Bucky was tired after yet another night spend tossing and turning in restlessness and phantom pain but then again, when was he ever not tired? But instead of spending the day stuck in bed and dwell on the bad mood sleepless nights always left him in, he had dragged himself outside and was currently headed toward the VA to meet with his therapist.

Dugan had convinced him. When Dugan told you to do something, you did it no matter how cloudy your head felt and no matter how much you did not want to deal with your lack of an arm or your fucked up head.

(Unless Dugan had been drinking, in which case don't listen to a single word he says.)

With a quiet and tired sigh, Bucky ran his hand through his hair and pushed it out of his face. It was starting to get stupidly long but ever since he had come stateside and out of the hospital, he hadn't bothered getting a haircut. Short hair would be easier to maintain with just one hand, he knew that, but he couldn't get himself to care about it.

He was walking down the street toward the VA when he heard a door open and laughter flow out. He turned his attention to the other side of the street where a group of guys in maybe their late teens or early twenties were rushing out of a cafe, laughing and grinning.

And right after them came a familiar blond storming out with his fists clenched by his sides and a furious look on his face.

“Your mothers would be ashamed of every single one of you fucking pigs!” Tiny Guy yelled at them. “Who the fuck do you think you are to treat _any_ woman like that?!”

“She liked it!” one of the guys in the group called out, the rest of them laughing.

Tiny Guy's face turned red.

“Oh yeah, I'm sure she fucking loved it when you fucking assholes decided to make fun of her boyfriend too, you piece of shit!” he spat out and then stalked forward. “I will fucking punch some sense into each and every single one of you! Get back here!”

The guys laughed louder which only seemed to anger Tiny Guy even more, his legs picking up speed as he started charging forward. His angry roar made the guys startle a little and they ran away faster.

But, much like the previous time Bucky had seen something like this happen, Tiny Guy didn't make it very far.

The door to the cafe was pushed open and a guy stepped out. This one was blond as well, taller and more muscular than Tiny Guy. He had a couple of band-aids taped to his nose and cheek and by his side stood a labrador retriever with its tongue lolling out of its mouth.

“Kick their asses, Rogers!” he called out, his hands cupped around his mouth and a wide grin on his lips.

Bucky blinked and look back to where Tiny Guy (Rogers?) was charging toward the group of guys still laughing as they ran away. Rogers was still yelling after them, cursing them to the high heavens, but Bucky couldn't make out what he was saying anymore.

Someone else stepped out of the cafe. Her hair was bright red and her face was hard as she started running, easily catching up to Rogers and grabbing onto the hood of his shirt to hold him back.

Rogers didn't seem to notice. He just kept yelling, kept throwing punches, kept kicking at the air.

The woman rolled her eyes with her whole body and effortlessly dragged Rogers back toward the cafe and the other guy. “This is seriously getting out of hand,” she said, raising her voice over Rogers' shouting one and moving her free hand in signing.

“Aww, Nat,” the other guy whined. “It was just getting to the good part.”

“Let me go so I can kick their ableist, sexist, fucking asses!” Rogers was yelling but neither of his friends seemed to pay any attention to him anymore.

“The good part where we spend an hour patching him up after he gets his ass beat, you mean,” Nat (?) said and shoved Rogers into the cafe, her expression settling on one that was very similar to Sam's; unimpressed and done and exasperated.

“No, the good part where the assholes shit their pants,” the guy said, his grin growing wider.

A grin tugged at Nat's lips but whatever she said after, Bucky didn't hear because then they both stepped into the cafe and the door closed after them.

He blinked a few times, staring at the door they had all disappeared through. Through the window at the front of the cafe, he could just barely see Rogers still raging on and on, flailing his hands around and looking like he was five seconds away from punching something. Or someone.

It was a wonder there were still any customers in there, now that he thought about it. That and the fact that Rogers probably worked there if the apron with the cafe's logo he was wearing indicated anything. How the fuck had this guy not been fired yet if he regularly went and picked fights with assholes?

Shaking his head, Bucky tore his eyes away from the cafe and continued his journey to the VA. His hand slipped into his pocket for his phone and he was texting Becca about what had happened before he could even think about it.

And if there was a little smile on his lips and a little flutter in his heart because of Rogers and his apparent violent way of being a good human being, then that was his business.

☆

When it happened a third time only barely a week later, Bucky decided to accept his fate as an audience member to the Rogers Rage Show. God knew he could use some entertainment in his life and what better than seeing a tiny, little ball of furious justice take on groups and groups of asshole people?

The third time it happened, Bucky had only just left the VA building. He was tired and grumpy and not in the mood for anything other than burying himself in bed, so he had spend the entire time inside sitting in the back of a group meeting and half listened instead of talking. He didn't need to, didn't want to, probably should have.

His mood was foul and a dark cloud had shadowed him since three in the morning when he had woken up breathless from a nightmare. But when he heard a familiar voice shouting, he perked up the tiniest bit and turned his head and attention toward the cafe.

“I hope you rot in hell, you giant piece of human garbage!”

Rogers was a tiny man. Bucky was sure he easily disappeared in a crowd and became invisible. He was tiny and short and skinny and didn't look like much. But his fists were clenched to his sides in anger, his jaw was jutted out, his boney shoulders were square, and his voice held more power than his body looked like it did.

Screaming and yelling and swearing like a damn sailor and asking for a fight, Bucky found him breathtakingly gorgeous. Like a tiny ball of energy and rage and justice that shined brighter than the fucking sun, punching his way through the evil and disgusting trash of the world.

Bucky never believed in love at first sight and the way his heart warmed and pounded at the mere sound of Rogers didn't really change his mind. But it did make him stop and stare, desperately reaching out for the feeling he felt when he looked at him because it was _good_ and Bucky hadn't had good in his life in years.

The man standing in front of Rogers was easily twice his size and in his later years, beard graying and head balding. He had an annoyed look on his face and his arms were crossed over the swell of his belly.

Both of them were standing a few feet from the cafe, everyone walking nearby hurriedly crossing the street to walk around them in a big circle. Bucky didn't blame them. They both looked seconds from starting a physical fight and Bucky had half a mind to walk over and interfere.

Both because he felt a sudden urge to protect Rogers and because a glance toward the cafe told him no one was coming to hold him back from trouble this time.

“You're the one going straight to hell, kid,” the man was saying, spitting the last word out like an insult and his voice raised. “I ain't the one who's a disgusting homo here!”

Bucky's hand twitched and curled into a fist, his jaw clenching.

“First of all, you giant fucking turd,” Rogers spat out and stepped into the guy's space. He wasn't yelling, not at the moment. He did look like he wanted to rip this guy's head off and Bucky sympathized and kind of hoped he would. “I'm bisexual but that's not any of your fucking business. Second of all, I'm not the one going into a cafe that's supposed to be a safe space just to call the owners disgusting.”

“Well, I don't need to get all that lesbian shit thrown in my face,” the guy spat back.

Rogers' eye twitched and he visibly lost every last bit of chill he had been trying to keep.

“How the fuck is one fucking flag in the window throwing it in your face?!” he yelled. “You could have just kept walking the fuck away and ignored it, but no! You decide to disturb a peaceful afternoon!”

“I didn't–“

“I should ask you to carry around a plant so you can stop fucking wasting oxygen, you fucking asshole!” Rogers cut him off, spitting out the words.

Bucky bit back a snort, barely able to bite back the amused smile that tugged at his lips.

The guy scoffed, clearly offended. “You better shut your mouth or I'm gonna beat your ass.”

“Fucking come at me,” Rogers snarled and brought up his fists. “Fight me, you fucking piece of dirt!”

“Shit,” Bucky cursed under his breath when the guy lifted one angry fist. His feet started moving to get across the street before he could even think about it. But he never got to cross it to stop the fight because someone else came to interfere before he could.

“Hey!” a woman yelled from the cafe entrance, startling the guy and making Rogers huff in what looked like frustration and annoyance. Her short sleeved shirt showed off an impressive set of biceps that almost made Bucky rethink his sexuality and her jaw was set in determination and anger as she stalked forward.

“What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing?” she asked, her accent smooth and her words said in anger, her voice raised. She wasn't addressing Rogers though, not like Bucky first thought. She was addressing the other guy.

“Teaching this homo a lesson,” the guy spat, glaring right back at the woman.

Rogers' face turned bright red with anger again but before he could throw a punch or a kick, the woman grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back. She had a tight smile forced onto her lips, her eyes locked onto the guy.

A beat passed and then she punched him. Right in the nose.

Bucky blinked, the guy stumbled backwards and clutched at his nose, and Rogers kneed him in the crotch, causing him to bend over with a painful groan.

Bucky desperately wanted to high five them both.

“If I ever see you anywhere near my cafe ever again, I'm calling the cops,” the woman said and then proceeded to drag Rogers away from the guy before he could kick him again.

“Fuck you, asshole!” Rogers spat, ending up kicking the air instead. He didn't struggle when he was dragged along with the woman, although he did continue to kick and punch the air in front of him. “Let me go, Peggy! I'm not done with him!”

But Peggy (?) didn't let go and just dragged him into the cafe, the door closing and silencing Rogers' continued cursing and angry yelling.

Bucky was smiling. It was small and tired but amused and definitely there. It grew just a fraction wider while the guy groaned and got up to his feet, nose bleeding and one hand clutching his crotch.

Much like the rest of the people on the street, Bucky didn't bother with more than a glance before he turned and continued on his way.

☆

Bucky's thumb hovered over the call button. He was in bed, leaning against the headboard with a pillow against his back. All the light in his room was turned off and he had been trying to sleep for the past two hours but with no luck. It was currently one am and his thumb was hovering over his sister's number.

It wouldn't be that late where she was and she would have been home for a couple of hours already. Back when he was getting out of the hospital shortly after getting his arm amputated, she had told him to call him anytime he needed her.

He had taken her up on that offer most nights of the week, having no one but her consistently in his life. He had done it a hundred times before and yet he still found himself hesitating every single time.

With a quick glance at the time and a silent sigh, Bucky pressed call before he could talk himself out of it and put the phone to his ear. It rang three times before the call was picked up.

“Having trouble sleeping again, big bro?” Becca answered in lieu of greeting.

Bucky sighed heavily. “Yeah.”

There was movement on the other end. It sounded like Becca flopping down on either her bed or the couch in her apartment, he wasn't quite sure. He had heard it enough to know that noise though. She usually did that when they talked, settling in for a long conversation.

“Alright,” she said. “Out with it. What's on your mind?”

“You know that guy I've been spotting near the VA a couple of times?” Bucky asked, not beating around the bush and just getting straight to it. Becca never ridiculed him for anything. She teased him, sure, but she was his sister and siblings do that. But him fixating on the smallest thing? Never.

“That angry, little dude?” Becca asked, sounding interested.

“Yeah,” he said and didn't elaborate because there wasn't much else to say about it. He couldn't sleep and Rogers just happened to be on his mind.

There was a beat of silence on the other end and when Becca spoke, her teasing grin was audible in her voice. “Do you have a bit of a crush on him, Bucky?”

“No,” Bucky denied with a huff maybe a little too quick. His pounding heart and his warm cheeks called him out on his lie. “I don't even know him.”

“So?”

“So how am I supposed to have a crush on someone if I don't even know them?”

“You're shitting me, right?” Becca huffed at him. “Remember when you were a teenager and had a crush on literally every guy you saw in town? You didn't know them either.”

“That was different.”

“How the hell was that different?”

“I was a teenager. Those weren't crushes, those were...” He paused, struggling for a word. “Dick risers?”

Becca snorted disgustingly in his ear. “And this isn't a dick riser?”

Bucky shrugged a shoulder. “I mean, he is kinda pretty,” he admitted in a low mumble.

“Uh huh,” she said. “And by pretty, do you mean totally hot? Especially when he's yelling at assholes and defending people, right?”

Bucky sighed heavily and tipped his head back, bonking it against the headboard. He closed his eyes and quietly admitted, “Yeah.”

“Now was that so hard to admit, Bucket?”

“Shut up, squirt.”

She laughed at him and said, “You couldn't pay me to shut up.”

Bucky groaned at her and wished, for just a second, that he had a second hand to bury his face in. He settled on the corner of the pillow between his back and the headboard.

“Okay, but seriously,” Becca said a few moments after when she was done laughing at him. “When are you gonna go over and talk to him?”

“Well, today is Wednesday so let me see...” Bucky hummed, pretending to think. “Uh, how 'bout the day after fucking never?”

“Wow,” Becca said dryly and huffed. “Are you too scared to go say hi?”

Bucky scoffed. “No.”

“Then you should go do it, dumbass. Get to know him, ask him out, make out with him, maybe have him rough you around a little 'cause apparently you're into that.”

Bucky groaned quietly and said, “This is such a weird conversation to have with my sister.”

“Like the condom conversation was any less weird,” Becca said with a snort. “But I'm serious, Bucky. Go talk to him. It'd be good for you.”

Bucky hesitated for a minute before he sighed. “Fine. But I'm gonna text you right after.”

“You better fucking text me right after. I want every little detail so I know what to put in my speech at the wedding.”

And that was how Bucky found himself walking down the street around noon the following day, not toward the VA like he usually would but toward the cafe he knew Rogers worked at. His palm was sweaty where it was buried in the pocket of his jacket and the cap that kept his mess of a hair in place sat low over his eyes.

He used to be so good with people but that was years and a war and a whole arm ago. People just made him nervous now. It didn't help that he was preparing himself to go talk to someone who was probably the angriest guy in, well, the entire universe.

Bucky was already worried he'd end up saying the wrong thing and he hadn't even said a single word to him yet.

But all nerves and worries and anxiety disappeared in an instant when he made it halfway down the street and heard noises nearby.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

_Groan._

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks and trained his ears to the distant sound. His brows furrowed in thought as he tried to figure out what the hell that was. It only took him a handful of seconds and two more thuds and one more groan before it clicked and his feet moved on their own, rushing him toward the sounds coming from an alley.

Really, he should have seen this coming from a mile away. He should have but it still took him by slight surprise.

Rogers was barely standing up on his own two feet, swaying slightly and his fists raised in a sloppy boxing position and his chest rising and falling in heavy pants. His lip was split, there was a dark bruise already forming on his cheekbone, and his knuckles didn't look much better.

Before him stood a man double his size, a fist raised and a furious look on his face.

Bucky acted before he could even think about it, shouting out a, “Hey!” that startled both of them. Rogers somehow managed to look even more furious (but also like he was about to faint) while the man looked terrified and seemed to falter in his previous action of punching Rogers.

Good.

Bucky stalked forward, his jaw set and his fist clenched. “Pick on someone your own size,” he bit out at the man and shoved him away not roughly enough.

The man scoffed and muttered something under his breath. Bucky chose not to hear it and instead glared after him as he turned to walk out of the alley.

Rogers, however, did hear what he said.

“You better fucking take that back right the fuck now!” he shouted and rushed forward on staggering feet, his fists raised.

Bucky shot out and grabbed onto his elbow to stop him. “Wait a second–”

“I do not need help!” Rogers bit out and yanked his arm away, turning around to send him a glare that had Bucky freeze on the spot.

Fuck. His eyes were stunningly blue.

“I had him on the ropes,” Rogers told him, looking absolutely furious and Bucky tried (and failed) not to fall for him harder than he already had.

“Okay,” he breathed, nodding quietly. “Sure thing, pal.”

Rogers looked – glared, fucking Christ, Bucky felt like _he_ was the small one there – at him for a long moment before he scoffed, shook his head, and shouldered his way past him as he stormed off and out of the alley.

And Bucky could only stare after him, stunned and with his heart pounding in his chest and his cheeks heating because damn. Becca was absolutely right. Bucky had it bad.

☆

Days passed where Bucky didn't bump into Rogers again. He didn't go into the cafe either, much to Becca's disapproval. He told himself to do it every time he stepped out of the VA and looked in that general direction but every time he got anywhere near it, he chickened out and headed home instead.

On the upside, he actually got a full night's rest during one of those days. Sure, he spend the following day huddled in the corner of his bathtub crying his eyes out but at least he got some much needed sleep.

It wasn't until Saturday a week later that Bucky saw Rogers again. This time, however, it wasn't anywhere near the VA or the cafe or any alleys.

Bucky's fridge was empty so he had sucked it up, dragged himself out of bed, and gone to the grocery store. He hadn't bothered getting out of his sweats though and he had the sleeve of his jacket clipped neatly to his stump, too tired to deal with the lingering embarrassment that came with how obvious it was.

It was a process, his therapist always told him. It would take time to get used to only having one arm and since wearing a prosthetic only got him in a bad head space, he had to learn how to be okay with it.

Six months later and he was slowly getting there.

Bucky shuffled down an aisle and stopped a few feet down, setting down his basket to pick out a pack of bread. He lifted one off the shelf, checked the date and ingredients, then made a low noise to himself as he set it back. He did it once more and reached for a third when someone shoved at him and reached out in front of him.

“Out of the way, cripple,” an elderly man said as he pushed himself in front of Bucky to grab a pack of bread.

Bucky blinked and found himself taking an involuntary step back to let the guy get what he wanted. It took a few seconds before the guy's words really processed in his brain and Bucky scoffed. It wasn't the first time he'd been called something like it, certainly wouldn't be the last, and he was not having it.

However, before he could do anything but send the man a glare, a familiar voice came from behind him.

“Apologize,” it said and Bucky very pointedly ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at the sound of that deep, angry, dominant voice.

Rogers was standing behind him when Bucky looked over his shoulder. That angry, furiously righteous look was on his face again, his brows low over his beautifully blue eyes and his sharp jaw was set. His fists were clenched tightly by his sides and his shoulders were squared.

The evidence of the last fight he had been in, the one Bucky had interrupted, were still obvious on his face and somehow that only made him look even more beautiful.

“What?” the jerk still standing in Bucky's space said, sounding annoyed as he turned to Rogers.

“I said apologize,” Rogers repeated and gestured to Bucky. “You were being an asshole to him, so apologize.”

The man gave Rogers a quick once-over then scoffed. “Or what? You're gonna kick my ass?”

“You fucking bet I am,” Rogers said without missing a beat, stepping forward. “Apologize. Now.”

Damn. Rogers' anger wasn't even directed at him and yet Bucky felt obliged to apologize.

The jerk, however, didn't seem fazed. “Yeah right,” he said with another scoff and then turned to Bucky. “Why don't ya keep your bitch of a boyfriend on a leash–”

“Alright,” Bucky interrupted maybe a bit rudely but he didn't care. “You got what you wanted, now fuck off, pal.”

The asshole made a face at him and opened his mouth to speak but Bucky cut him off before he could.

“I don't need two hands to kick your fucking ass, so I suggest you walk away. Right now.”

The man stared at him and Bucky stared back. After a good ten seconds, the man scoffed and walked away with a muttered insult that Bucky chose to ignore and prayed Rogers hadn't heard, because he did not feel like getting kicked out of a grocery store.

His prayers were heard, it would seem, because when he looked at Rogers, he was only glaring after the jerk and not preparing to run after him for a fight.

“Thanks for having my back, man,” Bucky said in greeting. It may not be at the cafe like he originally had thought their first proper conversation would take place but it at least didn't involve any yelling. Becca would be proud of him.

Rogers turned to look back at him and in a second, the anger washed away and a smile replaced it. Crap. If Bucky thought he was beautiful before, it just tripled.

“I feel like I owe you for yelling at you last week,” Rogers said, his smile turning almost sheepish. His cheeks held a pretty pink color and Bucky swallowed thickly. “Sorry about that, by the way. I was, uh...”

“Angry?” Bucky supplied when Rogers didn't continue.

Rogers chuckled and ducked his head. “I guess you could say that,” he said. He paused for a moment, let out a sigh, and then lifted his gaze form his shoes to meet Bucky's. “But I shouldn't have taken it out on you and I'm sorry for that.”

“You're forgiven,” Bucky said and offered him a smile that he hoped was kind enough.

Rogers let out a breath and returned the smile easily. “Thank you. I've been beating myself up over it for days.”

“Well, better than someone else beating you up,” Bucky said teasingly.

Rogers looked at him for a long moment, then huffed and put on a mock annoyed expression. “I'll have you know, I did actually have him on the ropes,” he said.

Bucky lifted a brow and gave him an unconvinced look. “Your face says otherwise.”

Rogers narrowed his eyes at him and Bucky instantly regretted having let the words fall out of his dumb fucking mouth. He was about to take it back (or at least try to) when Rogers let out a huff and a small, amused smile formed on his lips.

“Wow,” he said with a short shake of his head. His eyes were on Bucky and his smile grew wider and teasing. “This is the thanks I get for coming to your rescue? You being a smartass?”

Bucky lifted his shoulders in a shrug, the nerves washed away by Rogers' bright smile. “Well, it's better than getting yelled at, ain't it?”

Rogers chuckled and said, “Fair enough.” He paused, his eyes wandering over Bucky and–

Wait a second.

Was he getting checked out?

“I'm Steve, by the way,” Rogers ( _Steve!_ ) said after a moment, his eyes locked with Bucky's again and a faint blush rising to his sharp cheekbones.

“Bucky,” Bucky said and ignored the way his heart pounded at the way Steve was looking at him.

“Well, Bucky,” Steve said, dipping his chin as he said the name with a near purr in his tone. “If you're ever near Vintage Cafe, you should stick your head in and I'll get you a free cup of whatever you want. If I'm on shift, that is.”

Bucky raised a brow and asked, “Won't that get you in trouble?”

“Nah,” Steve said with a dismissive hand movement. “The owners and I go way back. If I don't get in trouble for picking fights with asshole customers, I'm not gonna get in trouble for giving out free things to cute guys.”

Bucky blinked then grinned crookedly. “Cute guys, huh?”

“Hey.” Steve held up his hands, a toothy smile on his lips. “I just call 'em like I see 'em.”

Bucky let out a chuckle, his cheeks feeling warm. “Alright, Steve,” he said, leaning down to grab his basket off the floor. “I'll stick my head in after my next VA meeting.”

Steve's face fell the tiniest bit, his smile softening, and for a second Bucky hated that he had blurted it. Not that he was ashamed – he still wore his dog tags around his neck wherever he went, not even bothering to stuff them under his shirt anymore, so it wasn't like he was hiding it – but he hadn't meant to blurt it like that.

But Steve's smile remained soft and he only nodded and said, “I'm looking forward to it.”

Bucky let out a quiet breath. “Yeah,” he said, his smile small and crooked. “Me too.”

“See you around, Buck,” Steve said. His eyes lingered on Bucky for another moment before he turned and walked away.

Bucky walked on air for the rest of the day and when he told Becca about it later the same day, he couldn't stop himself from smiling until his cheeks hurt.

He didn't expect Steve to want to actually date him or anything, maybe not even be friends with him. That wasn't really why he was smiling so much. Sure, it was part of why. But the main reason was that he did it. He held a pleasant conversation with someone outside of the VA and someone other than his sister and he was proud of himself.

A small step forward but a step forward nonetheless.

☆

Despite having a standing and encouraging invitation, Bucky didn't go to the cafe after his following VA meeting. He told himself he was going to go over there as he stepped inside the VA building but then he felt exhausted and drained and in a shitty, grumpy mood as he turned to leave again, and he didn't want to put Steve through that.

Steve deserved better than that and Bucky didn't want to risk fucking it up before it had even gotten a chance to start.

So instead of going there like he so badly wanted to, he headed back home and spend the rest of the day and the following day after in bed watching Netflix and not sleeping and hating himself for not going there.

He didn't go there the next time either or the time after that and Bucky hated himself more and more. He kept not going because now he was ashamed and embarrassed for not having gone the first time. It was a spiral and he couldn't get out of it; couldn't stop hating himself and beating himself up over it.

It was Friday two weeks after when Bucky finally got some good news that could make him forget about his self hatred and spiraling for just a couple of hours.

Dugan and the rest of his unit from the army were in town and Bucky didn't hesitate to accept the invite to hang out with them at the local bar. They didn't get to see each other as often anymore – half of them were still serving and the rest were spread out over the country – but every once in a while they did and Bucky would never decline an invite from any of them.

“Barnes!” a booming and familiar voice greeted him only a second after he had stepped into the bar.

Bucky's eyes swept over the small crowd of people in there before setting on a group of familiar faces gathered around a table in the back right corner, Dugan already standing up with a raised hand and a wide smile. Bucky instantly smiled back and headed over toward them, navigating through the people.

“Hey, guys,” Bucky greeted them back and slammed his hand down onto Morita's shoulder, squeezing as he sat down on the empty seat next to him.

“Hey, sarge!” came the chorus of greetings from the rest of the guys, Dernier raising his glass of beer in a silent one as his mouth was too full of it, Bucky assumed.

“You growing your hair out, Barnes?” Jones commented and reached out to ruffle it.

Bucky swatted his hand away with a huff. “So what if I am, huh? I can rock the long locks.”

“I don't know 'bout that,” Dugan said with a chuckle.

“You've got a handlebar mustache, Dum Dum,” Falsworth said. “Your opinion doesn't matter.”

Bucky laughed along with the rest of them while Morita reached across the table to curl a finger around Dugan's 'stache, only to get his hand swatted away as Dugan huffed in annoyance.

“Alright, alright,” Dugan said and smoothed down his mustache “Why don't we stop teasing and someone go get Barnes a drink. What's your poison, sarge?”

“Uh, water,” Bucky said.

“Oh come on,” Morita said and moved to stand when no one else did. “Not even a light beer?”

“Nah, pal. Getting buzzed ain't on my plan tonight.”

“One light beer's not gonna get you buzzed,” Dernier pointed out.

“Guys, come on,” Bucky said with a huff and absently rubbed a hand over his stump, his sleeve clipped to it. “Fuck off and let me be sober.”

Morita grabbed onto both of his shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “One gigantic glass of water coming up for the good sarge,” he said and slapped his right shoulder before leaving the table.

When he returned with one admittedly large glass of water and a full bowl of peanuts, the table was already in deep and friendly conversation, the six of them catching up and laughing loudly every few minutes and teasing each other.

It was just like the good old days and Bucky couldn't deny he had missed them. Keeping in contact wasn't easy with all of them spread out so far and wide but when he had gotten his arm crushed and a couple of the others retired as well, they had made a promise to each other to always meet and catch up when they had a chance to.

And Bucky was glad they did because he didn't know what he would do without them.

They had been there for a good hour or so when a small group of people walked past their table. A lot of people had walked by them throughout that hour but one of the people in that group caught Bucky's attention immediately.

Steve.

One of his friends (Sam, if Bucky remembered right) had his arm lazily slung over his shoulders, while the red head (Nat?) and the other blond guy (Bucky couldn't remember if he'd ever heard his name) walked ahead of them, weaving through the small crowd and heading toward a table on the other side of the bar.

Bucky couldn't take his eyes off of Steve, his heart pounding at the mere sight of him. Both because he was embarrassed and ashamed for not having come to see him for weeks even though he had said he would and because, well, he had a giant crush on the guy and he looked _good_.

“Someone catch your eye, sarge?”

Bucky blinked and turned his attention back to the table. They were all looking at him, knowing grins on their lips. He flushed, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug. “Kinda,” he admitted in a lowered voice.

“Who?” Falsworth asked, instantly sitting back up and looking around the place. Everyone else followed suit right after.

Bucky rolled his eyes at them and sighed. “Blond guy, over there,” he said and pointed toward where Steve and his friends were sitting down by the table, all of them looking in deep conversation already.

“The short one or the one covered in band-aids?” Morita asked.

“Short one.”

“Damn,” Dugan said and chuckled, leaning back in his chair to look at them. “That guy's tiny, Barnes.”

Bucky huffed and said, “Don't let him hear you say that. He'll punch your face in.”

“You know him?” Morita asked and curiously turned back to him.

Bucky shrugged. “Sorta. Only talked to him twice and one of those times he yelled at me.”

The guys laughed and Morita asked, “Were you being an ass?”

“Nah, I actually helped him, believe it or not.”

“Ah, you were being his knight in shining armor.”

“And he did not approve of that,” Jones guessed and Bucky nodded.

“And the second time he was my knight in shining armor.”

They cooed and Bucky rolled his eyes, trying to look annoyed but found himself smiling instead when Morita elbowed him teasingly in the side.

“Well, go on then,” Dugan said and flung a hand out in Steve's direction. “Go talk to him.”

Bucky looked over toward Steve, his heart warming when he saw him smile brightly and throw his head back in a laugh that he could hear from there. He hesitated but ultimately, he shook his head and leaned back in his seat, slumping down a little.

“Nah,” he said and looked down at where his hand was fidgeting with the rim of his glass. “Nah, I can't do that.”

“The hell you can't,” Jones said and reached across Morita to shove at him. “Come on, at least go say hi. Maybe flirt a little. Work that Barnes charm I know you've still got.”

“Yeah!” both Morita and Falsworth said while Dugan and Dernier cheered him on in encouragement.

Bucky groaned and whined and tried to push against their repeated shoving. But eventually their shoving became rougher and their encouraging chant of his name became louder and started attracting more and more attention, and before Bucky knew it, he was out of his seat and crossing the bar, heading toward Steve and his friends.

During the whole walk over, Bucky tried to come up with a way to start a conversation. But by the time he made it over there, his mind was blank and no words came out of his mouth when he opened it.

_Fuck,_ he cursed silently to himself as the conversation at the table came to a halt and there were eyes on him.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ he repeated in his head when Steve seemed to notice the sudden silence around him and turned to follow his friends' eyes.

_Oh fucking hell,_ he thought and held his breath the moment Steve's eyes landed on him.

“Bucky!” Steve exclaimed and broke out into a wide and toothy smile, and Bucky felt himself melt a little.

“Hey,” he said in a breath, hoping his smile didn't look as nervous and awkward as he felt.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Steve said, his smile soft and his incredibly blue eyes shining under the dim light in the bar. “You here by yourself, or?”

“Nah, I'm here with a few friends,” Bucky said and gestured over toward his unit who all were shamelessly watching them with interest. He glared at them and they waved back, wide grins on their faces.

“Saw you though,” Bucky continued, flipping his unit off behind his back. “Thought I'd come over and say hi.”

“I'm glad you did,” Steve said. “I've been waiting for you to come by the cafe but I keep missing you.”

Embarrassment filled Bucky's chest and he lowered his gaze a little. “Actually, I haven't stopped by,” he admitted and send Steve a small and sheepish smile. “Not yet, at least.”

“Oh.” Steve almost sounded disappointed but the easy and soft smile never left his lips. It only faltered for a brief moment. “That's okay. You can stop by whenever you want to. No pressure.”

There was a pointed cough to Bucky's left and both he and Steve followed the sound. Nat (that was her name, right? Right.) was giving Steve a pointed look, her brows raised in silent communication.

“Oh, right! Sorry.” Steve smiled at Bucky. “Bucky, these are my friends; Natasha, Sam, and Clint,” he said, pointing at each of them as he introduced them. “Guys, this is Bucky. The guy I told you about.”

Bucky felt his cheeks warm. Steve talked about him?

“Good to meet you, man,” Sam said and held out a hand in greeting, a toothy smile on his lips.

“You too,” Bucky said and hesitantly took his head. Either Sam didn't notice how sweaty his palm was or he politely ignored it.

“You wanna join us, Buck?” Steve asked.

Bucky glanced back over at his own friends. They were still watching them intently, now giving him thumbs up all around and encouraging nods. The offer to sit with Steve was tempting but he found himself hesitating.

He didn't get to see his unit all that often and probably wouldn't see them for another several months after this night. Hanging out with Steve would mean not hanging out with them and Bucky didn't know what to do.

So he started to panic a little. His heart started pounding in his chest, loud in his ears, and he swallowed roughly despite his dry throat. When he looked back at Steve, he was met with a concerned and worried look but still with the same kind smile.

He didn't dare look at the others. He didn't want to feel worse ( _pathetic, useless, fucked up_ ) than he already did.

“I don't know,” he finally said after what felt like forever.

A hand slapped down on his shoulder and Bucky only startled a little, instantly relaxing when he turned and saw Morita giving him a reassuring smile right next to him. The rest of his unit were close behind, their beverages in hand and easy smiles on their faces as they approached.

“You planning on abandoning us, Barnes?” Jones asked as he came over on Bucky's other side.

Bucky let out a breath, his chest loosening, and said, “Wouldn't dream of it, Jones.”

Jones smiled at him and Bucky smiled back, grateful that he didn't have to make a decision because they made it for him. Sometimes he forgot how easy he was to read. At least for the people who knew him, that was.

“You people mind if we join you too?” Dugan asked before taking a swig of his beer. “We're only in town a couple of days and we don't wanna miss out on time with our good friend Barnes here.”

“The more the merrier,” Sam said and stood up from his chair to shake hands with all of them, introducing himself.

“Oh great,” Natasha said with a smile that looked slightly faked as she reached up to shake hands with Morita and Jones. “More testosterone. That's just what a girl needs.”

It was a tight fit around the table with the ten of them but they made it work. Natasha gracefully moved into Clint's lap and offered up her chair to Jones who took it with a wide smile. Clint immediately narrowed his eyes at him and wrapped an arm around Natasha's middle with a pout, and Bucky bit back a snort at the obvious jealousy.

Bucky was the last one to sit down. He eyed the seat next to Steve for a solid five seconds without doing anything about it. But when he lifted his gaze a little and saw Steve looking at him, a soft smile on his face and a hand patting the seat, all the nerves vanished and he moved over to sit down.

They got along swimmingly. His unit always had this unique ability to get along with just about anyone, to make any and everyone feel involved and include everyone in their (often very loud) conversation. Even Clint – who, Bucky learned, was deaf and hadn't brought his hearing aids out with him – was constantly brought into the conversation.

Jones was the only one of the soldiers who knew sign language and he happily translated, filling out the blanks that Clint missed because people kept turning away and not letting him read their lips. It wasn't a problem and the awkwardness Bucky had spotted in Clint's expression was quickly pushed away and replaced by an easy grin.

Bucky didn't participate in the conversation as much as he maybe should have. He was happy to just sit to the side and watch but that wasn't really why he didn't participate. It was more because he was fixated on the feeling of Steve's knee pressed against his own.

He was hyper-aware of it, his own knees becoming goo every time their knees knocked together and every time Steve laughed.

And Steve laughed a lot. Steve laughed with such ease and Bucky could feel himself fall a little bit in love with him, right then and there.

“I'm gonna go get a refill,” Steve announced almost two hours in, sliding his chair back and standing up.

Bucky looked at him and immediately wanted to go with him. But again, he found himself hesitating. A foot knocked against his own and he looked across the table to find Morita giving him an encouraging smile and an encouraging thumbs up.

He rolled his eyes at him, sucked in a breath, and stood up with his heart pounding. “I'll go with you,” he told Steve and smiled when Steve did, his knees feeling weak but he steeled himself and followed him toward the bar.

During the whole (although short) trip toward the bar, Bucky couldn't take his eyes off of Steve. He was walking a step or two behind him, weaving through the few people still standing around on the floor, and he couldn't get himself to look away from the back of his head.

While Bucky marched forward hunched in on himself but not moving out of the way of people, Steve walked with his back straight and shoulders back and weaving through the crowd effortlessly. He was slender and skinny and small, whereas Bucky was broad and tall and full of muscles, so for Steve it was easy.

And Bucky's heart ached just looking at him. The thought of wrapping himself around Steve made his heart warm and his knees feel weak, and he didn't know what to do about that feeling. He'd never felt anything remotely close to this before and it was terrifying.

Exciting and exhilarating but fucking terrifying.

When they made it to the bar, Steve shouldered his way between two people and rested his elbows on the counter, leaning forward and waiting for the bartender to look his way. The two people he was stood between hadn't moved much, didn't need to with how little space Steve filled out, but it bothered Bucky so he subtly maneuvered between Steve and one of them, glaring until the girl scoffed and shuffled away.

It took the bartender a good two minutes to look their way – two minutes Bucky spend committing every little detail of Steve's face to memory and two minutes where Steve smiled at him and made casual small talk that Bucky tried his best to respond to.

“Hey,” Steve said once the bartender moved over to them with a small and polite smile. “Can I get another coke, please?”

“ID?” the bartender asked, grabbing a glass.

Steve raised his brows. “For a non-alcoholic drink?”

The bartender shrugged and Steve huffed, clearly annoyed as he dug out his ID from his wallet that he kept in his back pocket. Bucky bit back a snort, rolling his eyes when Steve gave him a look of annoyance.

“Can I ask you a question?” Bucky asked while the bartender made Steve's drink, ignoring his heart flying into his throat and leaning forward on the counter, his shoulder touching Steve's.

“Sure,” Steve said and turned to him.

“Your friends are drinking,” Bucky started and nodded over to where Steve's friends and his own were laughing back at their table. “Why aren't you? I mean, we're in a bar.”

“You're one to talk,” Steve said and smiled at him, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You're not drinking either.”

“Don't really wanna,” Bucky said with a shrug. He glanced down at his empty left sleeve but quickly returned his attention to Steve. “Not anymore, anyway.”

The expression on Steve's face was soft, his smile kind. “I get that,” he said. “And, well, alcohol doesn't mix so well with medicine and I'm taking a _lot_ of that, so I'm staying the fuck away from it.”

Bucky frowned but before he could ask, Steve's drink was placed in front of him and the subject seemed to drop. He wanted to ask, worry settling in the pit of his stomach, but he didn't want to push. They weren't friends, he had to remind himself. They were practically strangers and he doubted Steve would give out his whole medical history (because apparently he had one) to someone he didn't know.

So Bucky let it drop and followed him back toward their table, happily walking a step behind him.

They made it about halfway back before things started to go south in a second.

Someone moved and Steve didn't swerve out of the way in time so they bumped into him, causing him to spill his drink all over the floor and all over himself. Bucky stopped while Steve froze, cursing down at his spilled drink and sticky hands.

“Watch where you're walking,” whoever bumped into him spat angrily.

Bucky's first instinct was to step forward and give the guy a warning glare, but he never got to do that because then Steve scoffed loudly. Bucky took one look at him and forgot all about stepping in.

The annoyance that had been displayed on Steve's face earlier by the bar was nothing compared to the expression his face held now. Bucky would even go as far as to all it angry, the expression so similar to the ones he'd seen before; the ones that had made him fall for him in the first place.

Steve was visibly angry and Bucky could only stare, his heart pounding.

“Watch where _I'm_ walking?” Steve spat back, his voice raised and the hand that wasn't holding the now nearly empty glass curled into a fist.

“That's what I said,” the guy said. “What, you dumb _and_ deaf?”

“A little bit, actually,” Steve said and squared his shoulders. “But I'm not the one who should apologize. _I'm_ not the one who bumped into someone and made them spill their drink all over themselves.”

Bucky saw the second anger appeared in the other guy; the clenched jaw, the curled fists, the low brows, the stormy eyes. He saw it the second it happened and he knew how it would end. It would end with Steve blowing it up more than necessary and it would end in a bar fight, which would end with them getting kicked out.

As much as Bucky would love to see Steve yell at him (he couldn't deny it to himself; Steve yelling was kind of hot and definitely incredible), he wasn't too crazy about the idea of getting kicked out.

“Alright,” he said and wrapped his arm around Steve's middle to pull him back before he could move. He lowered his voice and spoke into Steve's ear, “He's a dick but we're in a bar. Don't get us kicked out, please.”

A beat passed, then Steve let out a heavy sigh and relaxed against Bucky. Bucky tried not to think about how good it felt having him lean against him like this. But his heart betrayed him and skipped a beat anyway.

“Fine,” Steve grumbled. He and the guy exchanged one last glare before the guy turned away with a scoff and Steve stepped away from Bucky. He sighed and turned to face him, head lowered a little.

He was looking up at him through his lashes and Bucky was pretty sure he was going to die.

“I'm sorry,” Steve sad, a blush painting his cheeks a pretty pink.

“Don't be,” Bucky said with a shrug, silently telling his own heart to calm down.

“No, I should be,” Steve said, cutting Bucky off from continuing. He looked frustrated. “I shouldn't get angry so easily, but...” He sighed heavily, almost groaned. “People are dicks, ya know?”

“Yeah, they are.”

“It's so frustrating,” Steve continued with a sound that was definitely a groan. “Why the fuck is it so hard for people to be decent human beings?” He sighed, then sobered and smiled at him. “Well, at least you're pretty decent.”

Bucky's heart fluttered, his cheeks heating. “Shut up,” he mumbled and rolled his eyes.

“I'm serious,” Steve said and with a chuckle, he stepped forward. “You're kind, sweet... doesn't hurt that you're kinda pretty too.”

Bucky was sure his face was bright red at this point. “Only kinda?”

“Very pretty,” Steve corrected himself and took a step closer.

Bucky swallowed thickly and allowed himself to glance down at Steve's lips. He wanted to lean down and see if they were as soft as they looked. He hadn't been very subtle about where he was looking, he knew that, and when he locked eyes with Steve again, Steve was blushing brightly.

“You're not so bad yourself,” Bucky managed around a dry throat.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So,” Steve drawled and took half a step closer. “If I asked you to buy me another coke, would you?”

Bucky blinked. He blinked again and then laughed. Shaking his head, he swung his arm over Steve's shoulders and said, “Sure, pal. Let me get you one and escort you safely back to our table.”

“What a gentleman,” Steve sad and laughed too, letting himself be guided back to the bar and staying put under Bucky's arm and against his side.

Bucky ended the night with a smile on his face, a happy flutter in his heart, and Steve's number programmed into his phone.

☆

> **[** 02:56 AM **] Steve** : You know who sucks? Sam sucks.  
> **[** 02:56 AM **] Steve** : He ate the last of my gummy worms.

< **[** 02:56 AM **] Bucky** : omg

> **[** 02:57 AM **] Steve** : YOU DON'T DO THAT, BUCKY!  
> **[** 02:58 AM **] Steve** : I'M GONNA FIGHT HIM!

< **[** 02:59 AM **] Bucky** : gO TF TO SLEEP STEVE

> **[** 03:00 AM **] Steve** : (ง •̀_•́)ง

Texting Steve was an... experience.

Bucky's phone was constantly vibrating, the texts arriving at odd times throughout the day, and they ranged from Steve complaining to Steve telling him lame jokes that made Bucky laugh even though they were fucking terrible.

Steve always got so offended when Bucky told him just how terrible his jokes were and Bucky smiled at his screen while Steve ranted.

Bucky didn't regret giving Steve his number. Not even for a single second. It was the first time in months that he spend sleepless nights with a smile on his face and his brain quietening with each text he received.

When he told Becca after the second time, she squealed in his ear and said, “I was wondering why you weren't texting me. And here I thought you were finally getting some sleep but instead you were texting a boy!”

“Shut up, squirt,” Bucky murmured into his pillow, his face flaming as she teased him.

But he was happy. They didn't know each other all that well, not yet, but Steve made him happy.

Steve made him feel floaty and excited and _good_ , and Bucky hadn't had good in ages. So he chased after it while ignoring all the anxiety and nerves that bubbled as his crush on him grew stronger by the second.

He chased after it and desperately clung onto that something good that had punched its way into his life.

☆

Going to the VA was the last thing Bucky wanted to do that day. He wanted to be at home in his bed, buried in blankets and watching Netflix and eat whatever little he had in his fridge and maybe text Steve if he wasn't too busy at work.

He didn't want to be on his way to talk to his therapist but there he was anyway; walking down the street with his hand stuffed in the pocket of his jacket and his face stuck in what Jones called his “resting bitch face”.

Whatever. He was too tired and too grumpy to put any effort into, well, anything.

His mood, however, brightened just the tiniest bit when he glanced across the street and toward Vintage Cafe. He couldn't see Steve, not even through the front window, but he knew he was in there, working, and his heart felt a little warmer at the knowledge.

He itched to go there, desperately wanted to finally go in there and visit him at work like he'd promised to do weeks ago, but he sighed. He had an appointment and after that, well... he probably wouldn't be the best company. Hell, he wasn't even the best company _now_.

Shaking his head and silently calling himself stupid, Bucky decided against going there and focused on going to the VA building instead.

He didn't make it more than a few feet from the front doors before someone – a woman – stepped out in front of him and blocked his path. She looked oddly familiar and it only took him a couple of seconds before it clicked.

It was the same woman who had punched a dickhead in the face almost a month ago. What was her name, again? Patty? Something with a P, Bucky was pretty sure of it.

He raised a questioning brow at her when she said nothing and only gave him a calculating once-over. Bucky tried not to feel nervous about it.

“You're Bucky, correct?” she finally asked after a long silence had stretched between them.

Bucky's palm felt clammy in his pocket. He nodded and slowly said, “Yeah.”

“I'm Margaret Carter,” she introduced herself as and held out a hand. “But you can call me Peggy.”

Peggy. Right.

“Okay,” Bucky said and hesitated before he pulled his hand out of his pocket and reached out to shake hers. Either she didn't notice the clamminess or she politely ignored it.

“I've heard a lot about you,” Peggy said, a kind smile on her red lips. “It's kind of hard not to when Steve won't shut up about you.”

Bucky blushed and looked down at his feet, heart pounding and lips curling into a little smile. His grumpy mood was momentarily forgotten.

“I gathered it was high time I met the guy he's been mooning over for the past few weeks,” she continued. “He's busy at the cafe right now and technically so am I. But I wanted to come say hi anyway. I do own the place, I think I can give myself a little break every once in a while.”

“Seems fair,” Bucky said, finally lifting his gaze and meeting hers, cracking a small smile.

“That's what I keep telling my wife, Angie,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “but she keeps telling me to do my job and not scare away customers. Well, it's not my fault customers are a bunch of arseholes every so often, now, is it?”

“Definitely not,” he said. He hesitated for a moment, glanced toward the cafe, and then looked back at her. “I take it you're as bad as Steve, then?”

Peggy laughed and said, “God, no. He's far worse than me. He will actively go pick a fight even when there is none. I'm far more subtle than that.”

Bucky's smile grew a little, the corners of his lips tugging back until his teeth peeked through. She sounded defensive, almost like what she was saying wasn't entirely true, and he couldn't help but find it amusing.

“Anyway,” Peggy continued and waved a hand briefly and dismissively. “I wanted to invite you over to the cafe, if you're not busy. I would love to chat some more with you and I know Steve would be delighted to see you.”

Bucky's smile dropped from his lips. The urge to accept the offer was large and he nearly did it. But he glanced toward the VA building and felt himself hesitate to give in to the temptation anyway.

“I've got,” he started and gestured toward the building. He wasn't sure how to end the sentence so he didn't.

Peggy didn't even look at where he was pointing, her smile only growing softer. “After, then,” she said kindly. “No pressure. The offer stands for as long as you want it to.”

Bucky looked at the building, then at the cafe, and then at Peggy. He hesitated.

“You deserve something good,” Becca's voice said in his head because Becca telling him those positive things made it more believable than when he did it himself. “Go for it.”

He took in a deep, deep breath and let it back out in a slow sigh. “Okay,” he finally said with a short nod. “Okay, I'll come by. After.”

Peggy smiled at him, wide and kind and soft. “Steve will be happy to hear that.”

☆

Bucky wasn't going to chicken out of it. Not this time, definitely not this time. He wasn't going to chicken out and have to beat himself up over it for the next several weeks to come.

He wasn't going to do it, he wasn't going to do it, he wasn't going to do.

He kept telling himself that – repeating “Go for it” in Becca's voice in his head over and over again – as he marched across the street and headed toward the cafe.

He was going to go over there, see Steve's smile, and he was going to smile back. Screw the nerves, screw the anxiety, screw everything. He was going to do it.

When he made it to the door leading into the cafe, he paused. For just a second, he paused. His eyes were locked onto the frame of the door, hand held up and hovering over it and ready to push. He took in a deep, deep breath and then he moved.

Heart in his throat, Bucky pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Steve was standing by the counter, leaning against it with a bony elbow resting on the surface and his attention on Sam who was standing in front of him. Steve was talking, Sam listening and nodding along, and there was a little curl of a smile at the corner of his lips, and he looked good.

So good that all Bucky could do was stop one step into the place and let the door slam into his back when it closed behind him.

The sound of it caught Steve's attention and the second he looked his way, his little smile transformed into a bigger and wider and toothier smile, his whole face lighting up like the goddamn sun after a long and dark night and Bucky felt his knees become jelly.

“Bucky!” Steve exclaimed, pushing himself off the counter and making his way over toward him.

“Hey,” Bucky said and found himself smiling. Steve's smile did that. It was intoxicating and Bucky couldn't get enough of it, wanted to look at it – _him_ – for hours upon hours.

But he forced his gaze away from Steve for just a brief second to look around the place. It was cozy and there weren't too many people in there, not anymore. It had looked a whole lot fuller earlier but now that it was getting closer to closing hours, the crowd had thinned out. Which, honestly, was pretty damn perfect.

Bucky spotted Sam nodding a greeting at him, Sam on his way over toward a table where Bucky spotted two other familiar faces; Clint and Natasha. There was a dog sound asleep underneath Clint's chair.

He couldn't spot Peggy anywhere.

“I see you finally took advantage of that invite,” Steve said, coming to a stop in front of him and smiling brightly up at him.

Bucky swallowed, shrugged a shoulder, and said, “Actually, Peggy told me to swing by after my meeting.”

“I know,” Steve said and rolled his eyes, putting on a mock-annoyed expression but the smile that seemed permanently stuck to his ( _pretty, pink, beautiful, kissable_ ) lips ruined it. “But I'm taking credit for it anyway 'cause I invited you first.”

Bucky let out a little chuckle. “Sure, Steve.”

“Anyway, I'm off in about thirty minutes,” Steve said and pointed over his shoulder at where Sam, Clint, and Natasha were watching them shamelessly. “You can join those assholes if you want or just wait for me. I know I'm much better company, anyway.”

Bucky hummed quietly, shooting the three a glance. “It'd be rude not to, right?”

“Who the fuck cares?” Steve asked with a shrug. “You do whatever the hell you want to, Buck.”

Steve left him with an apologetic smile when someone called for him from the back, and Bucky turned to look at the three peanut gallery attendees. He hesitated for only a brief moment before he took in a breath and walked over toward them, his palm clammy but he ignored it.

“Hey,” he greeted them, hoping to come off as casual and doubting it worked. If anything, he probably just came off as tense and grumpy because that was how he always came off as.

“Hey,” Natasha greeted him back with a small and crooked smile, while Clint just raised a bandaged hand and hummed his greeting against the rim of his cup of coffee.

“Good to see you again,” Sam said and offered him a hand that Bucky shook after a second.

“You too,” Bucky said and sat down on the empty seat by the table. The dog under Clint's chair lifted his head for a brief moment, tail wagging wildly when he locked eyes with Bucky, but he didn't move from his spot.

There were only a few seconds of silence – uncomfortable and awkward for Bucky but none of the others looked to feel the same – before Sam brought up a subject and that had the three of them launching into a friendly conversation.

Bucky was prepared to feel a little left out, which was fine. He was used to that. But then Clint asked for his thoughts and shoved him into the conversation, Sam and Natasha backing him up, and Bucky didn't feel so left out after all.

Barely five minutes into the conversation, Steve came over to the table and placed a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of Bucky.

“That free drink I promised you,” he said with a soft smile when Bucky gave him a questioning look.

Bucky blushed, his cheeks warm, and took an appreciative sip. It was good, incredibly good, and he ended up drinking it a lot faster than he had expected to. He didn't even realize it was gone until Steve came back with a glass of water for him, leaving them again with a smile.

Peggy showed up a good twenty minutes in to let them know they were closing within the next five minutes but that they were all welcome to stay. She also greeted Bucky and introduced him to the co-owner and her wife, Angie Martinelli.

Angie was sweet and funny. Bucky only saw her for a brief couple of minutes but he was a quick judge of character. He could tell that Angie was the kind of person who kept Peggy in check, and he couldn't help but smile as the two of them kissed and looked at each other with so much love that it made his own heart melt a little.

And if he looked at Steve with longing in his eyes right after, then that was his business.

The conversation continued on and Bucky learned that Sam worked at the VA as a consultant.

“Really? I've never seen you there before,” Bucky said, confused but not all that surprised. He was never in his right mind when going there and never noticed other people, so of course he wouldn't have noticed Sam. Or anyone else, for that matter.

He could be in a large crowd of people who went there as regularly as he did and he wouldn't be able to recognize any of them.

“It's a big place,” Sam said with a shrug. “I've worked there for a years, went there for a couple before that, and hell, I don't even know half the people there. Don't worry about it, man.”

Along with that, Bucky learned that Clint was a landlord and the time he didn't spend working on his residents' places and fixing things around the building, he spend shooting arrows with a friend of his.

“Kate's like a little sister,” Clint said. “But so much worse.”

“You're just jealous,” Natasha said.

“Of course I'm jealous! She's got money falling out of her ass _and_ her own shooting range! And yet she keeps stealing my shit and my dog, the little shit.”

Both Sam and Natasha laughed, and Bucky found himself laughing too.

“Is that why you're hiding your dog under your chair?” he asked, glancing down at where the dog was sound asleep again.

“It is,” Clint said and crossed his arms. “If she comes here and tries to take him from me, at least I'll have back up.”

“Pretty sure none of us would be on your side, Barton,” Sam said with a grin.

“Aww, guys,” Clint whined and pouted.

When Bucky asked, Natasha told him she was a special agent. She didn't elaborate or say more than that and Bucky didn't push.

“She's taken down an army of men by herself,” Clint said, a proud and beaming smile on his lips as he wrapped his arm around Natasha's shoulders. “With her right arm tied behind her back.”

Natasha rolled her eyes but a smile was obvious on her lips regardless.

Bucky hesitated for only a second before he spoke. “Alright, so you can obviously take care of yourself and fuck shit up. Not to sound like an ass, but why are you letting him,” he pointedly looked at where Steve was cleaning off the counter, “fight your fights for you?”

He could still remember it, could still remember Steve yelling after a group of young men. He didn't know the whole story behind what had happened but it didn't take a genius to figure it out. The assholes had obviously been rude to Natasha (and then Clint right after) and Steve had scared them off.

And, judging by the way Natasha had handled the situation, it hadn't been the first time. Far from it.

Natasha quirked a brow and asked, “You have seen Steve explode, right?”

“It's impossible to know him and not see it,” Bucky said. “Yeah.”

“Then you know why.”

Bucky blinked. “No?”

“Entertainment, Bucky,” Natasha said and grinned widely. “It's fun to see Steve make men twice his size shit their pants.”

Sam and Clint hummed their agreements and Bucky blinked at them.

Well, _fun_ wasn't exactly the word he would use. Hot, that was the word that fit it more but he said nothing and just shrugged and mumbled, “I guess so.”

After the cafe had been closed and cleaned up, Steve joined them at the table with the leftover deserts that Sam, Natasha, and Clint didn't hesitate to dig into. Bucky hesitated for only a moment before Steve smiled at him and nudged a muffin his way.

Peggy and Angie disappeared in the back somewhere after stopping by for just a second.

“Ten bucks they're banging,” Clint said casually before shoving half of a croissant into his mouth.

“Make it twenty,” Steve said around his own mouthful, moving his hands to sign. “They definitely are.”

Bucky smiled and leaned back in his seat, picking absently at the half eaten muffin sitting in front of him. The others jumped right into some friendly bickering and teasing over the deserts and Bucky was more than happy to just sit back and watch and listen, Steve's thigh pressed against his own.

It was nice, he realized as Steve threw a handful of crumbs at a cackling Sam and he found himself laughing, sullen and dark mood long forgotten. He could get used to this.

Sam was the first to leave them. His phone pinged twice in a row where it was rested screen down on the table they were sat around, and Bucky watched as he picked it up and suddenly brightened visibly, smiling widely and toothily.

“Gotta go, guys,” he said as he stood, pocketing his phone. “The boyfriend is here to pick me up.”

“Say hi to T'Challa from me,” Steve said and stood briefly to hug his friend.

“Use protection!” Clint yelled after him, cupping his mouth between his hands.

Sam raised a hand and flipped him off but he didn't slow down as he hurried out of the cafe. Bucky snorted while the rest of them laughed.

Natasha and Clint left only twenty minutes after Sam. Clint started yawning every minute or two and when he leaned heavily onto Natasha and looked like he was two seconds away from falling asleep, Natasha rolled her eyes and announced that they were leaving.

The dog (Lucky, Clint had told him) immediately scurried out from under the chair at the sound of his leash and eagerly tugged them both out of the cafe.

Which left Bucky alone with Steve.

☆

“I just don't get it!”

Bucky sighed heavily.

“I mean, who the fuck does he think he is? The fucking king of the goddamn universe?”

He closed his eyes and rubbed at them, groaning quietly at the building headache.

“He doesn't get to boss me around like that just 'cause he paid me a couple of dollars for a fucking drawing!”

Dropping his hand back onto the table, Bucky opened his eyes and looked back at Steve. Steve who was still marching back and forth in front of the table, hands flying as he ranted on and on about the same thing he had ranted on and on about the past good half hour now.

“He's such an entitled fuckhead!”

Bucky

“Does he even know –”

was

“– how fucking long –”

tired.

“– it takes to draw? Does he not fucking know how time consuming it is?”

It didn't help that his head was starting to hurt.

“I'm not a fucking machine!”

And it definitely didn't help that Steve kept raising his voice. He was nearly yelling at this point and while Bucky could understand his frustration and rage, it was tiring. Right now, it was so goddamn tiring.

“Steve,” he said but he went unheard.

“You can't just shove a couple of dollars up my ass and expect me to spit out artwork just like that!”

“Steve,” Bucky tried again, louder this time.

“What does he think I am, a fucking art vending machine? What a fucking asshole!”

“Steve!” he tried a third time, louder again. “I know this bothers you and I understand that, but... please shut up.”

“Make me,” Steve said and then continued on his rant like it hadn't even been interrupted in the first place.

Bucky waited exactly three seconds and ten ranting words from Steve before he shot up from his seat, closed the distance between them, and kissed him.

Steve stopped ranting and gasped against his lips, and it wasn't until he froze that Bucky realized what the hell he was doing. Instantly, guilt and regret and self loathing started making his head spin and with his eyes wide and face pale, he pulled back.

Steve's face was flush, his blue eyes wide and locked onto him.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , a voice in the back of Bucky's head chanted. _You fucked up. Big time._

“I,” he started but stopped once he realized he didn't know what to say. Apologizing was probably a good place to start but he couldn't get the words out. They died in his throat while Steve continued to stare at him with those wide and stunningly blue eyes.

“I really wanna lecture you for kissing me without my consent,” Steve finally said, breaking the tense silence between them and taking half a step forward, his shoulders square and cheeks a pretty pink, “but I also really want you to kiss me again. Properly, this time.”

Bucky blinked, then blinked again. Color returned to his face; bright red and warm as hell. “What?” he let out in a breath because he wasn't sure he'd heard him right.

“Kiss me,” Steve said and stepped further into his space, tipping his head back a little. The look on his face was a mix of challenging and pleading and Bucky was so, so weak for this guy.

Swallowing past the dry lump in his throat, Bucky raised his hand and cupped Steve's jaw. “Can I?” he whispered as he leaned down, the distance between them getting smaller and smaller.

He could feel Steve's breath ghost over his lips when he stopped barely an inch away from his lips and his heart was pounding so hard he was sure it was going to burst out of his chest. Steve's cheek felt warm in his palm; warm and real and good and Bucky never wanted to let go of him.

“Please,” Steve whispered back, pleading, so Bucky did.

He kissed him, properly this time. Steve kissed him back within a split second, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt and pressing them close together. Bucky had control over the kiss for all of one second before he easily let Steve take over and boy did Steve know how to kiss.

The way Steve's lips slid against his own, the way his tongue brushed over his lips teasingly before finally diving in, the way his teeth dug into his bottom lip once or twice, the way Steve's hands touched him during the whole thing, the way Steve made small noises of content; all of it made Bucky's knees feel weak.

It was the best kiss of Bucky's entire life and he never wanted it to end.

☆

Steve's hand fit so well in his own and Bucky couldn't look away from where their hands were clasped between them, swinging just a little with each step they took.

While Bucky's hand was big and the skin was rough, Steve's hand was slender with long artist fingers and the skin was smooth and soft. Bucky couldn't stop his thumb from moving over it, touching and caressing and marveling at the softness.

Bucky had seen Steve threaten people with his fists clenched and raised, had seen him with bruised knuckles and blood covered fingers, yet, right now, they were so soft and gentle when they were tangled in Bucky's own. There were a few bumps from where the bones had undoubtedly been broken, but they were soft.

Bucky doubted he would ever get tired of seeing the way these hands moved, whether it was wrapped around a pencil or brush to create art or clenched into fists to fight or wrapped around his–

A couple of fingers snapped in front of his eyes. “Bucky!”

Bucky blinked and lifted his gaze to meet Steve's. “What?” he mumbled.

“Did you even listen to a single word I said?” Steve asked and quirked a brow.

They had stopped walking, Bucky finally realized. Steve had turned and was now facing him instead of standing next to him. Their hands were still clasped and their fingers were still tangled together, and it made Bucky's heart feel warm.

“Sure I did,” he lied.

“Oh really?” Steve said flatly. “Then what was I talking about?”

“Uh.” Bucky paused and made a face. “The weather?”

Steve gave him an unimpressed look, then he scoffed and shook his head as he took a step closer. There was a small smile curling at his lips, disrupting the annoyed expression his face held, and Bucky let out a breath, relieved that he wasn't truly annoyed.

“You're such an asshole,” Steve told him, coming to a stop barely a step between them and tipping his head back in a silent request.

Bucky hummed and leaned down to kiss him, squeezing the hand in his own. “You like me anyway,” he murmured against those soft lips.

“A little bit,” Steve murmured back. With his free hand, he reached up to grab the back of Bucky's neck and pulled him further down for a proper kiss that Bucky's didn't hesitate to return, bending down a little while Steve rose up.

It was nice, standing there on the street corner and kissing Steve like they had been doing it forever and holding his hand in his own like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bucky's heart was soaring.

But then he heard someone scoff nearby and the second he felt Steve stiffen against him, Bucky knew their nice moment was about to be ruined.

Steve pulled back slowly. When Bucky opened his eyes and looked down at him, he saw the burning anger in his eyes, the hand in his own tightening its grip. He saw the way Steve's jaw was clenched, the way his brows were furrowed, the way his eyes were storming, and he was certain that their moment was ruined.

Slowly, Steve turned his head and looked to the right of them. Bucky sighed quietly before following his eyes and looking too.

A man was stood by the nearby crosswalk, a look of disgust on his face as he glanced their way.

“You got a problem?” Steve asked, voice tight with building anger.

“Yeah, I got a problem,” the guy said and fully turned to them. His hands were buried in his pockets, his posture casual and face still holding the same disgusted expression. “You're my problem, faggot.”

Steve started fuming, hands tightening their grip on air and Bucky's hand. Bucky sighed and looked heavenward.

The hand slipped from his own and Bucky reacted on instinct; he reached out and wrapped his arm around Steve's waist and held him back while Steve started yelling and swearing and cursing at the guy.

The guy looked startled for a second before he glared and hurried away, muttering a slur that Bucky chose to ignore and that Steve yelled louder at him for.

Steve continued to kick and curse and swing his fists at the asshole, struggling in Bucky's arm, and Bucky could only smile fondly and watch him with hearts in his eyes.

Steve Rogers was a ball of anger and rage, his temper a short fuse that could be set off by the smallest thing. Steve Rogers was passionate about so many things and he shined brighter than the goddamn sun.

Steve Rogers was always ready to fight, picking them over the tiniest things, and ready to stand up for any and everyone who needed it, even when it meant standing up to guys twice his size and getting his ass kicked in back alleys.

Steve Rogers was a tiny ball of energy and justice and passion and anger. And Bucky had never been more in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Rebloggable on [tumblr](http://halerogers.tumblr.com/post/160377314163).
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life. <3


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